Idunn's Apples

She escorted him to a table, then bade him sit. As serving women brought him meat and bread, Morag sent a thankful smile toward Olaf, then left the chamber. Ingrid hurried after her.

"Morag!" she panted. The other slowed to allow her friend to catch up to her. "How is it that your nursemaid does not live in the keep? I would have thought your father desired to keep such a trusted servant close by."

Morag pushed the door of her chamber open and went in. "Gaweena was going to stay here in the keep, but one day a handsome farmer caught her eye. Gerald and she were married a short time later and she left us. They have been together since I was but a girl, and their union never produced any children that survived." Morag threw some clothes into a sack. "Gerald is old and unable to care for the farm alone. I must go with him and tend Gaweena."

Ingrid sat down upon Morag's bed. "She left behind a life in the keep for the drudgery of a farm?" She shook her head. "Love makes us fools who follow our men whither they go."

Morag froze in place. "What did you just say?"

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "That love makes women fools..."

"...who follow our men wither they go." Morag slowly folded a couple of extra blankets as she thought.

"Morag?"

"I think I know who poisoned the mead, Ingrid. She had opportunity and reason. We must speak to her before I leave."

"A woman?" Ingrid stood suddenly. "A woman poisoned the men? But...the cook! Her husband fights for the Limping King, who is no friend of my father's. Then it is a plot to kill us all, so you may claim this keep and the lands in the name of your father!"

Morag scowled. "Old agreements and vows would be cast aside. They would not allow a woman to keep such a gem. I would be married off, or sent to a convent. Then a trusted member of the king's inner council would be named lord of these lands. But the cook was not thinking of politics when she poured the poison into the mead. She was only thinking of her husband." Morag tied up the end of the sack. "The Limping King cannot allow Vikings to remain within his kingdom, even though he freely gave this land to your father. She knew that her husband would be part of the force sent to reconquer these lands once the Viking king returned home. And to save him, she has tried to rid this keep of its new overlord."

"I shall deal with her!" growled the furious Viking woman.

"No, Ingrid. The cook shall leave with me, and she shall leave this place unharmed." Ingrid opened her mouth to argue. "Peace! The cook shall go to her husband and pass on information that her plot failed. The Limping King will hear that the Vikings are still strong, and his heart will leave him. He will not attack your father until he regains his courage, and that shall take many months. By then, the tournament will have drawn many warriors from near and far and the king dare not attack when there are so many at hand to draw sword and axe against him."

"Fair enough, Morag." Ingrid suddenly laughed and shook her head. "Your mind works like my father's. You are far too subtle for Snorri!"

"As I am finding out, Ingrid." Morag lifted the sack off the bed with some difficulty. "But it won't hurt Snorri to have a clever wife."

Ingrid folded her arms across her chest and held her tongue.

Chapter 26: An Abrupt Goodbye

Olaf and Brother Jacob stopped Morag before she left the inner keep. Ingrid cast a thoughtful look in the direction of the kitchens, then grabbed Morag's hand in hers. They shared a determined smile.

"Lady Morag! I am sending Brother Jacob with you. He may know of some healing arts. I will accept no argument in this matter."

Morag bowed. "I will appreciate the company, Lord Olaf," she lied. "I also ask that the cook accompany me to the home of Gerald and Gaweena."

"A good idea, Father!" added Ingrid quickly. "You do remember the quality of Morag's cooking!"

Olaf's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he glanced from Morag to Ingrid. "Very well." Olaf put his hand on the monk's shoulder. "I have your word that you shall return Lady Morag?"

Brother Jacob looked surprised, but recovered quickly. "You have my word to do exactly that, Lord Olaf."

Morag turned to a servant. "Bring my travelling garb!" Then she turned to Gerald, who was leaning upon a walking stick, and Brother Jacob. "We will depart soon. Ingrid and I will fetch the cook." She turned to the Viking chieftain. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kindness, Lord Olaf. I will re-"

"Enough!" he said gruffly. "The old man can barely stand any longer! Get what you need and get going!" He turned about and stomped away, leaving Morag to wonder at his uncharacteristic abruptness.

Ingrid spoke: "Monk! Inform the guards that they are to prepare a sledge for Lady Morag."

Brother Jacob bowed and left. The ladies ordered Gerald to wait where he was, then headed down to the kitchen. Soon enough, the pleasant odours of food filled their nostrils and the clamour of kitchen work filled their ears. They stepped into the large room together and surveyed the scene before them. Workers were everywhere, bustling about, preparing food, tasting, and performing an assortment of tasks lost on Morag and Ingrid.

"Noreen!" called out Morag. A few kitchen workers halted and turned to the two ladies. "Noreen!" she called out again. The cook remained as busy as most of the other servants.

"You are far too gentle, Morag," noted Ingrid. She took a deep breath. "EVERYONE STOP!"

Every soul turned to the two ladies. Many were fearful.

Morag cleared her throat. "Everyone but the cook is to go down into the stores! Right now!"

Shuffling reluctantly, the workers went down the stairs one by one, until only the cook was in the room. She scowled, then looked nervous. Morag noted how Noreen kept one hand concealed from their view.

"Noreen! You served my father for many years, haven't you?"

"Yes, lady."

"And you were always loyal and hard-working."

"Yes, lady."

"And for this, I give you your life." Noreen stared at the two in confusion. "I am leaving the keep to care for my old nursemaid, and you are departing with me. You will bring any remaining poison with you."

"Poison?" The cook eyed Ingrid warily and tensed. "I don't know what you're saying, lady."

The Viking woman took a step forward. "If you stay, then I shall punish you once Lady Morag has left the keep. Some of my people died from your poisoned mead!"

"Vikings!" spat the cook.

"You have two minutes, Noreen," stated Morag. "Then I leave and my protection leaves with me."

The cook took a few quick breaths, then relaxed. "This is no trick, Lady Morag?" Her question was answered with a cold stare. "Very well. I will ready myself for a journey." She removed her apron.

"And inform the kitchen staff that they may resume their duties," added Morag.

Once out of the kitchen Ingrid grabbed Morag's arm. "What if she has already put some more poison in another meal?"

"It will take her many hours to reach a place of refuge, Ingrid. Her footprints will be easy to follow in the snow."

"You don't seem in a forgiving mood, Morag."

"She was careless in her use of the poison and in killing Stephen. While I don't like the deaths, she could easily have slain many. I give her this one chance and no more."

Chapter 27: Dismissal

Morag had steadfastly refused to sit in the sledge, leaving it for her clothing and the foodstuffs she had taken from the keep. The going was slow, with all four slipping and sliding upon the ice at times. And when there was no ice, there was deep snow. Brother Jacob seemed to be having the least trouble travelling, and he often helped the others through difficult stretches.

Gerald tapped his stick against a snow column that stood waist high. The click echoed across the silent snowy mounds, and was only answered by some distant raptor's cry.

"This marks the edge of my land, Lady Morag."

"I remember this place, although I have not visited in more than five years. Stop the sledge!" she commanded. Everyone stared at her in surprise, though they followed her order.

"Noreen, this is where we part. You are to go west if you wish to meet your husband. It will be a long and tiring journey, but at least you won't die under a Viking axe."

"Thank you, Lady Morag! You must come with me! The king will care for you!"

Brother Jacob began, "I think, perhaps, that Lady Morag would be safest-"

"The king," she interrupted, "is no friend of mine or my father's. He will take one look at me, then hand me off as a reward to some unmarried noble whom he seeks as an ally. I am not going to be a bag of silver in the Limping King's treasure chest."

The cook stared at Morag for several seconds. "Where is your loyalty for your own people-?"

"My loyalty?" shouted Morag. "Where is the king's loyalty to my father, who died protecting the king's lands? My inheritance was handed off to a Viking chieftain to ensure the Limping King remained in power! I could have fled with that damned priest, but I stayed to protect all of you as best I could!" She waved her mitten in front of the cook's face. "Do not dare speak to me of loyalty until you have given up as much as I have! I have lost a father, my inheritance, my title, my entire life!"

The cook opened her mouth to argue the point. Then she glanced at the two men, both of whom now stood beside Lady Morag. Noreen shook her head in disgust and stormed away into the snow.

"My pardon, Lady Morag," said Brother Jacob in a soft voice, "but times have been difficult for everyone. Should you have spoken to her so? Surely she shall relay your words to the king."

"She poisoned men and women. It was not just Vikings that died at her hand, and she never spoke once of remorse." Morag turned to Gerald and Brother Jacob. "I am better rid of that loadstone. I show what mercy I can to those who trespass against me"-she put her mittened hand upon Gerald's shoulder-"and I reward those who have acted in good faith."

Chapter 28: Heart to Heart

"It has been three days, Lady Morag," noted the monk. He ran his hands across his tonsured scalp. He had just come in from outside and despite the cold, he was sweating from his labours.

"Unused to chopping wood, brother?" She glanced at him and smirked. "I would have thought that monks enjoyed the hard and honest labour of good, simple folk.

"Gaweena is dying, and her husband will likely follow her soon after."

Morag frowned. "I know. They are so close, and neither has anything else to live for."

"Your arrival and tender care has done much for their spirits. Do you recall how Gaweena brightened when she recognized you?"

"It warms me still." She stared into the hearth and watched the flames dance for a few seconds. "She is my last link to my past, brother. I feel as if all the doors are closing behind me, leaving only a foreboding portal before me."

"You fear marriage to Snorri, the son of Olaf?"

"I fear it will not be as blessed as I had long dreamed marriage would be."

Brother Jacob sat heavily in a chair and warmed his hands by the fire. Morag poured him some hot broth and handed it to him. "My thanks, Lady Morag." He took a couple of spoonfuls. "Your cooking is improving...somewhat."

"It is not that bad, is it?"

"Brother Jerome in my abbey believes that food must be a penance, as our hunger is another form of lust that we must deny. I am inured to far worse." He took a couple more spoonfuls for good measure and grinned at her. "Perhaps you have forgotten, Lady Morag, but I have another option for you."

"My aunt?"

"Would it surprise you to know that Lord Olaf spoke to me privately, and in that conversation beseeched me to take you away to your aunt?"

Morag set her sewing down upon her lap. "It would." She turned and transfixed him with her eyes. "You would not be deceiving me so that you could complete your quest?"

"No." He took another few mouthfuls of broth. "He made me promise to return you, but to where he did not specify. And, he interrupted you when you were about to vow to return to the keep."

"I will return to the keep. My people are there and they must be protected from the Vikings. If Lord Olaf were to die...there would be no-one else to watch over them."

"I had hoped that you would see reason." Brother Jacob set down his empty bowl. The spoon clattered noisily as it slipped and fell upon the stone floor. "I will return to the keep with you, then." He retrieved the spoon and examined it for a second.

"You had best return there on your own. I am staying to care for Gaweena and Gerald."

The monk stood and stretched. "Then I stay, too. These chores give me time to dwell on great matters of religion, and perhaps I will think enough to become an abbot or a bishop." He gave her a smirk, then set his blankets near the hearth and settled down for sleep.

Three days or three months, Morag was determined to care for Gaweena and her husband as long as necessary. The distance from the keep gave her time to think about what went on there and her future with Snorri. Perhaps he would be thinking on her now that she was absent?

A murmur in the next room warned Morag that Gaweena was awakening, however briefly. She set aside her sewing, lifted the candle, and left the monk alone in the chamber. Gerald was sleeping, but Gaweena had awakened and was staring about in confusion.

"Hush, Gaweena," whispered Morag, kneeling beside the old woman's bed. "I'm here."

"Morag?" asked the woman, trying to focus her eyes on the younger woman. "I awoke and everything was dark."

"It's night. Brother Jacob has settled down to sleep. Gerald is resting peacefully beside you here."

"Oh, Morag! I fear I'll be leaving you! And you'll be all alone in the world..."

"Not alone. My aunt sent Brother Jacob to recover me from my father's keep."

"Your aunt!" scoffed Gaweena with unusual strength. "That woman was never interested in you! She left immediately after your birth, even though your mother had just died. If she wants you now, then it's only to serve her glory. She turned her back on the world...and you were just a newborn babe!"

"Then you have met her!"

"Aye." Gaweena hesitated and breathed raspily. Morag didn't want the woman to tire herself out, but she did desire more information about her sole living relative. "She spurned a wooer, then took the habit. You mother was very ill while she carried you, and your father wrote many letters begging his sister to join us and help if she could. Lianna was ever aloof and distant. A cold stone cell in a cloister suits her well." The old woman reached out for Morag's hand. "It would not suit you, Morag. You were always one with a friendly smile and a compassionate heart. Do not go to your aunt!"

As the old woman drifted back to sleep, Morag removed her hand and stood. She turned and stared, as if into the other room where the monk now slept. What future did she have with her aunt? She felt no urge to don the habit and serve Christ. There was even more reason now to foil the monk's quest.

"Morag," whispered Gaweena. The younger woman leaned close as the elder whispered in her dream. "I remember when your father found your mother...hair the colour of sunshine...she was lost and confused...bad storm...brought her back from the coast and cared for her...if only we'd known where she came from or...her family...you'd be safe with them..."

Morag backed away from the beds. Her mother was a foundling? How had she not known that? She had been lost and confused? Found on the coast after a bad storm? Who was she? Blonde hair was unusual among Morag's people, but not rare. Generations of occasional mixing with Vikings had...Morag put a hand to her mouth.

Chapter 29: Death

As winter continued, Gerald took sick. Brother Jacob, showing surprising skill at carpentry, built a frame and bed, and they laid Gaweena's husband upon it. Husband and wife were close enough to hold hands if they wished, but both were too weak. Morag knew that it was simply a matter of time.

And as winter winds diminished and the snows and ices melted as if they had never been, Morag found herself dreading the coming of spring, and yet she did not know why. There was something of a trap ahead of her and she disliked having her fate decided by others.

Gaweena passed on during the first day that it rained non-stop. Gerald died a few days later, and the two were buried side by side in the cold mud near their cottage. It was hard work, and Morag shared in it no matter what Brother Jacob said to her. At last, the monk said some words in Latin and everything was finished.

Morag spent a quiet and thoughtful day drinking in Gaweena's home with her eyes and running her fingers over everything that Gaweena had once touched. There was no-one to inherit. The farm would go to weed, the animals would starve, and the house would slowly decline until it was little more than rubble. Children and grandchildren of neighbours would wonder who had once lived here, Morag thought sadly. Gaweena and Gerald would soon be nothing but a dim memory amongst the eldest of their neighbours, and then not a soul would know of them.

Such was life, she thought. "Even if I were to bear children, to their children I would be but a memory, and to their grandchildren I would be unknown. Our lives are so fleeting. Almost as if they have as little meaning as those of a field mouse or butterfly."

"Everything has a purpose," reminded Brother Jacob from behind her.

Morag nearly jumped. She had forgotten he had followed her into the house. "Yes, everything has a purpose. And yet, the purpose is lost on us all. We are such shallow creatures, although we think ourselves lords of the world."

"If you are determined to marry Snorri, then perhaps that has a purpose: a bridge between his people and ours. Think on the future, Lady Morag. You will bear him strong sons and beautiful daughters, and yours will be the face they think of throughout their lives. You can mold them into good Christians and-"

Morag laughed, too loudly. "You think of conversions? Your true purpose is laid clear, monk."

He put his hands out in a gesture of surrender. "If you mean to return to Olaf's keep, then I will escort you there. It is time for your life to continue on."

Morag nodded. "Pack your belongings and some food. I will tend my clothes. I put myself back under the Viking chieftain's power."

Chapter 30: The Contests Begin

Driving the sledge through the muddy paths back to the keep was far more difficult than pushing it through the winter snows, yet Morag and Brother Jacob kept at it until men rushed forth from the keep to take their burden.

Both were welcomed back, by Vikings and servants. It was made clear to them that Olaf had been in a foul mood since they had departed, and the arrival of competitors for the tournament had done nothing to improve his temperament. Morag went in search of Ingrid. She found the raven-haired Viking woman talking quietly with a rather proud-looking young Viking warrior. The two parted abruptly, and an embarrassed Ingrid embraced her blonde friend.

"Snorri has been indifferent to your absence, Morag. I am sorry to tell you this."

"I had hoped he would grow fond of me once I was not at hand, but that is the way of your brother." Morag looked around to be sure they were unheard. "But, tell me of your father. Why do so many whisper about his foul mood?"

"I do not know," admitted Ingrid, although Morag sensed that her friend had a very strong suspicion regarding the cause of the change in Olaf. "I have tried much to cheer him-"

"And who was that handsome warrior who spoke quietly to you?"

A smile lit up Ingrid's face. "Sigurd, son of King Gunderr. He arrived three days ago and pays me much attention."